


Thanksgiving 2

by Persiflage



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Couch Sex, Daisy as Co-Director, Empath, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fingerfucking, Inhumans (Marvel), Kid Fic, Mentions of Bobbi/Mack, Mentions of Jemma/Will - Freeform, Mentions of Meldrew, Naked Female Clothed Male, Older Man/Younger Woman, POV Phil Coulson, Skye | Daisy Johnson Feels, Thanksgiving Dinner, Woman on Top, fostering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 11:22:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daisy keeps on surprising Coulson at Thanksgiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanksgiving 2

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zauberer_sirin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/gifts).



> This is a sequel to my first [Thanksgiving](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5304422) fic (hence the REALLY original title!) - but set 2 years later. So, post-S3 AU with background established Meldrew, established ProfessorFlyboy (Jemma/Will), and established Mackingbird (Bobbi/Mack).

"You know, when I called you and Daisy the team mom and dad two years ago, I didn't think that you guys would actually become a mom and dad together." Bobbi's comment is low-voiced and Coulson doubts that Daisy's heard it, but he glances over at her anyway. Her attention is on Amara, who's looking a little overwhelmed at the number of people present. He wonders if this was a bad idea, throwing a Thanksgiving dinner for the handful of agents who'd otherwise be stuck at the Playground on their own, when Amara's still only got a shaky grasp on her powers. Then he remembers that Daisy's the one who proposed this, and if anyone knows how Amara's coping, it's Daisy. And he also remembers that Amara has been so excited at the prospect of a 'family' Thanksgiving dinner for the first time in six years that he swallows down his concern.

"It's only temporary," he reminds Bobbi. "We're just fostering Amara until we can find a suitable family to take her who will be able to cope with her being Inhuman."

"Still," Bobbi says, and her gaze goes to Daisy and Amara: the 12 year old is decked out in her best clothes, which Daisy had helped her choose after he and Daisy had taken Amara shopping. He has to admit the two of them make a fine picture: Daisy's actually wearing a dress (his favourite red one that she wore the first time he took her out in Lola), and Amara's in a pale gold dress that looks wonderful against her much darker skin. He's not sure how long Daisy spent on Amara's hair, but he knows she didn't begrudge a minute of the time, even though she was also busy helping him with the cooking. 

He's not going to admit it to anyone but Daisy, but today is fulfilling all his domestic fantasies, except maybe one, but with this many people here, and a foster daughter as well, he'll admit that his other domestic fantasy isn't likely to be fulfilled any time soon. He squashes his incipient desire, and any hint of regret, and brings his attention back to Bobbi. "Can you and Mack give me a hand bringing the dishes in?"

"Sure." She gives him a smile, then beckons to Mack, and the three of them head into the kitchen.

He can't help flicking a glance at the sink, remembering that it was in this very kitchen that he and Daisy had sex for the first time two years ago, and he knows he shouldn't be thinking about that right now, but at the same time, he's been so thankful for the development of their intimate relationship – instead of causing problems, as received SHIELD wisdom had it, it's actually made things a lot easier for both of them. Making Daisy Co-Director, as Bobbi had suggested two years ago, has also made a big difference, particularly when it came to telling the others that he and Daisy were a couple – by the time the others found out, Daisy had been Co-Director for six months, and everyone already knew that she had brought her ability to always see the big picture to the role, perfectly balancing his tendency to focus on individuals and what they needed. 

Coulson watches as Mack hefts the turkey up to carry it into the other room and bites back a smile at the ease with which the other man lifts the heavy platter that holds the bird.

"Coming?" Bobbi asks as she turns to follow Mack with a dish of potatoes in one hand and another of veggies in the other hand.

"In a moment," he promises. 

He nips upstairs to his and Daisy's room, where he fishes a couple of small jewellers' boxes out of the bottom of his closet. Since the two of them began fostering Amara six weeks ago, the three of them have been living here in the safehouse, and he can't help thinking how nice it is to walk out of the base at the end of his working day and come back here to be with his 'family'.

AC-S-AC-S-AC

By the time they reach the stage of eating the pumpkin pies Daisy and Amara had baked the noise level in the main room is reaching epic proportions, and Coulson's starting to wonder how soon they can get rid of their guests, which is mean of him, but he is longing for a bit of peace and quiet.

"Mom, mom!" Amara's excited voice brings Coulson's wandering attention back, and he smiles, as he always does, at the look Daisy gets on her face when Amara calls her 'mom'. He recalls the way she'd gently suggested that Amara call her 'Daisy' on her first day with them, and Amara immediately rejecting the suggestion, and Daisy's quiet confession to him in bed that night that she loved it, even though she worried she wasn't capable of being a good mother. He'd never doubted that, though, because Daisy's been 'mother hen' to his entire team from almost day one, and he'll never forget how good she was with Ace Peterson. 

"What's up?" Daisy asks, eyebrows raised.

"Aunt Jemma asked me to a sleepover at the base. Can I go? Please?"

"Tonight?" Daisy asks, looking across at Jemma with a surprised expression.

Jemma nods. "You and Coulson have worked so hard over the last few days to prepare this, on top of everything else, so I figured you'd be glad of a breathing space for at least one night."

Daisy looks down at Amara's hopeful face, and smiles. "Okay, but – " She slips a hand around the girl's body to stop her from immediately darting away. "You must promise me to do exactly as Aunt Jemma tells you – if she tells you not to touch something, you must obey because it might be something dangerous, even if it doesn’t look it."

"I will," Amara insists, her young face solemn. "Promise." She crosses her finger over her heart, so Daisy nods. 

"Okay. I'll help you pack a bag to take with you." She looks over at Will, who nods. "Uncle Will's going to go and sort out a bed for you in Aunt Jemma's room."

"We'll get the washing up started," Bobbi tells them, and May and Andrew get to their feet too, beginning to gather up the plates and dishes that litter the table.

Phil follows Daisy and Amara up the stairs to her room, feeling somehow that he doesn't want to miss this little ritual.

Amara bounces onto her bed, and drags her pyjamas from under the pillow, then grabs her stuffed bear. Coulson lifts the brand new duffel bag down from the top of the closet, and brings it over to the bed as Daisy brings clean underclothes out of the drawer.

"You ever been on a sleepover before?" she asks Amara, who shakes her head. "Okay, so here's the deal. If you want to come back here to me and Phil at any time, no matter what time of the night it is, you ask Aunt Jemma and she'll call us, and we'll come and get you, okay? It's okay if you change your mind and decide you don't want to spend the whole night with Aunt Jemma. She won't be upset, and neither will we." Daisy strokes her fingertips over the young girl's cheek, and Amara nods.

"But it'll be fun!" she assures Daisy, who chuckles.

"I expect it will, but I'm serious. We won't be mad at you, will we Phil?"

"Of course not," Coulson says immediately, giving his foster daughter a reassuring smile. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out one of the jewellery boxes he stowed there earlier. "Here. This is for you."

Her eyes go wide in surprise. "But you and mom already gave me a gift."

He smiles. "Yeah, we did, but this is an extra one from me. Uncle Mack and Uncle Joey made it, with some help from Aunt Jemma and your mom, but I designed it."

She takes the box carefully from him, then pulls it open and stares in obvious wonder at the pendant inside.

"It's a SHIELD pendant," she says.

"Yeah, but it's a bit more than that," he tells her. "Your mom will explain."

Daisy lifts the eagle logo pendant from the box on its delicate gold chain, then slips it around Amara's neck. "It's to make it harder for everyone's emotions to bother you," she tells her foster daughter. "Because I know it can get overwhelming for you, and eventually you'll learn how to block them out by yourself, but until you do, this will help."

"Won't I be able to hear you at all?" Amara asks.

"No, you will, but instead of it being like people are shouting in your ear all the time, it'll be like they're standing out in the hallway shouting. You'll still know if people are angry or joyful, sad or happy, or whatever else they're feeling, but it will be less deafening."

"Thank you." She throws her arms around Daisy's neck and kisses her cheek, then she moves to do the same to Coulson, and he kisses her cheek in return.

"You're welcome," he tells her. 

"Is there anything else you want to take?" Daisy asks as she packs Amara's bag.

"Can I take Cap?" she asks, looking at the Captain America plushie in the corner of her bookshelf.

"Of course," Daisy says immediately. "Are you going to carry him, or shall we ask him to guard the stuff in your backpack?"

"He can be on guard."

Daisy nods, her expression just as solemn as Amara's, and once the plushie is settled inside on top of her clothes, her current book, and her toiletries, Daisy helps her into her coat, then they make their way back downstairs. Amara precedes them, her backpack on her back, and her stuffed bear in one arm. Daisy leans into Coulson, pressing a discreet kiss against his jaw as she slides her hand into the back pocket of his jeans, and he grunts as he feels himself beginning to stiffen. He wonders, churlishly perhaps, how long it'll be before he can get Daisy to himself.

"I'm ready Aunt Jemma!" Amara announces proudly, and Jemma smiles at her. 

"You look ready to tackle anything," she agrees. She looks up at Coulson and Daisy, who're still standing on the stairs. "I'll take good care of her, I promise."

Coulson nods as Daisy says, "I've told her that if she wants to come back home at any point, you'll call us and let us know, and we'll come and fetch her."

"I won't!" Amara declares, and everyone smiles.

"Well okay," Daisy says, descending the last couple of stairs and kneeling beside her to straighten her coat. "But just in case. Ask Phil, he'll tell you it's always a good idea to have an exit route ready, just in case."

"It is," Coulson agrees easily.

Amara nods, then hugs Daisy, before offering her hand to Jemma, who takes it easily. Coulson becomes aware of Andrew lurking nearby, and gives him a questioning look. He nods, then says, "Do you two ladies mind if I come with you?" 

"We'll be glad of the company, won't we Amara?" 

She nods, looking up at Andrew. "I like you," she tells him frankly, and he chuckles.

"Thank you." He opens the door, then makes a sweeping gesture for them to precede him, and Amara giggles, then tugs on Jemma's hand to urge her forward.

"See you tomorrow," Daisy calls.

"Goodnight mom, goodnight Phil!" She pauses to wave energetically at them, before almost dragging Jemma over in her rush.

"Well that's an unexpected bonus," Coulson says in Daisy's ear. 

She turns to look at him, one eyebrow raised. "You mean you didn't put Jemma up to that just so you could get me alone tonight?"

He shakes his head. "Sorry, it didn't even occur to me."

She kisses him, not very discreetly, and he's glad everyone else is in the kitchen still. "I don't mind that you didn't," she says reassuringly once she lets him go.

He nods, and gives her a quick peck on the lips. "Let's see if we can get the others out of here sooner rather than later, shall we?" he whispers, and she giggles softly.

"Okay."

AC-S-AC-S-AC

Less than an hour later, the house is empty, and they're sprawling on the couch together, not quite ready to head upstairs to bed. Coulson's back is against the couch arm, and Daisy's between his legs, her back against his chest, and his arms around her middle. 

"How're you doing?" she asks quietly.

"Mmm, m'okay."

She twists her head to look at him, then smirks, and he wonders why for a moment, before she shifts against him, provoking a pained moan as he feels himself instantly growing hard.

"So, Director Coulson, it's two years since I pretty much ordered you to fuck me in the kitchen, shouldn't we be celebrating our anniversary?"

He chuckles. "What do you have in mind? A re-enactment?"

"It wouldn't be the same without the washing up," she teases, and he laughs properly at that. "No, I was thinking you might fuck me here on the couch."

"Oh you were, were you?" He reaches down to drag his fingers up her inner right thigh, then slides his index down the length of her sex, the silk of her panties creating a pleasant friction against their skin.

"Yeah, Phil," she says, already breathless.

"Mmm, I might manage that," he agrees, slipping his finger beneath the silk and between her already sticky lips. 

She shifts, spreading her legs as wide as they'll go in the confined space, then arches her hips up. "Deeper, Phil."

He groans as he obeys, pushing a second finger inside her slick heat and angling them just right so that he can stroke her G-spot.

"Fuck!" She's already breathing heavily, he notices, and he works his fingers faster, bringing his thumb down onto her clit.

"Yes, yes!" 

He wonders if he can make her scream, and he strokes her harder until she arches up off the couch with a loud cry of his name, and he feels her sex pulsing around his fingers.

She slumps back down, gasping for breath, and he gently strokes her through the aftershocks until she pushes his hand away with a murmur of "No more, Phil."

He pulls his hand out from under her dress, and is unsurprised when she grabs his wrist and brings his fingers to her mouth. "Fuck, Daisy." It's a familiar gesture, yet it never fails to make his cock instantly harder. She shifts away from him, and he can't hold back a whine, which makes her chuckle. 

"Relax, Phil, I'm not gonna abandon you." She climbs off the couch, then reaches up under her dress to pull off her panties. She gets back on the couch, facing him this time, and kneels between his legs, then leans in to clasp his shoulders as she kisses him hungrily.

"I'm gonna need a couple of minutes," she tells him, her expression apologetic. "I'm a bit too sensitive to take that big dick of yours just yet."

"Daisy," he groans, turned on, as always, by her 'dirty' talk. "Whenever you're ready."

She nods, then begins to unbutton his shirt. Once it's unfastened she pulls the edges apart, baring his chest, before she leans back in to lick and suck on his Adam's apple while scraping the fingernails of her right hand down his chest.

"Daisy." He breathes her name as she kisses her way down his throat into his chest, and he finds himself anticipating the scrape of her teeth over his nipple before it comes. 

"You have such a sexy body, Phil," she tells him, before sucking on his nipple. He can only groan in response because his cock's starting to throb now.

"Daisy, please."

She sits back, smirks at him, then pulls her dress off, which isn't a move he was expecting. Nor was he expecting to find she's not wearing a bra under the dress.

"Fuck," he sighs. "You're so gorgeous, Daisy."

She chuckles, then reaches out and unzips his jeans. "Lift your ass, Phil." He does and she tugs his jeans and boxers down to his thighs. "Now I'm gonna ride you until you're jelly," she says.

"I'm always jelly when you do that," he reminds her, provoking her to laughter.

"Yeah, true, Phil. Still." She moves forward until she's straddling his lap, and he clutches at the couch fabric as she clasps the base of his cock before sinking down onto it. They both groan when she flexes her muscles along his length once he's buried inside her.

She doesn't move immediately, and he raises his eyebrows at her, eliciting a smirk. "Just enjoying the fact I'm sitting here with your gorgeous dick inside me."

"I swear you're gonna be the death of me," he says, and she laughs. 

"So you keep saying, Phil, yet here you are still."

He shakes his head, then reaches up to clasp her breasts, thumbing her nipples until they're hard as pebbles.

"I do love this new hand of yours," she tells him. "I love the fact that I can't tell it's not real just from the sensation of it touching me."

"But it affects my vibrations?" he asks, and she nods.

"Yeah, because it's not organic like the rest of you." 

He opens his mouth to speak, but words flee when she squeezes her muscles around his cock again, then lifts herself up until only the tip remains inside her. He groans loudly when she sinks back down, then circles her hips.

He doesn't bother attempting to speak again as she rides him hard and fast until he's exactly as jelly-like as she'd promised.

"Okay?" she asks softly once they've both caught their breath.

He makes a noise of agreement, not sure he can actually be coherent yet. She leans in and kisses him gently, nipping at his lower lip, then laving it with her tongue.

"I think we should grab a shower, then go to bed," she suggests.

"Yeah," he manages, then he takes a deeper breath. "In a minute."

She chuckles, looking extremely smug, and he rolls his eyes, which just makes her laugh even more. "Poor Phil," she coos. "Are you feeling a bit wrung out?"

"A bit," he agrees.

She smirks, and is opening her mouth to speak when his cell chirps. "Text from Jemma?" she wonders.

"Possibly," he agrees, then groans a little when she slides her hand into his jeans pocket to retrieve his phone.

"What's this?" she asks, pulling out the jewellers' box he'd tucked there earlier, along with his cell.

"Oh." He can feel himself blushing as he accepts the phone from her. "That's for you. Don'topenit." He adds the latter in a rush. "Not for a minute, anyway. Please."

She raises both eyebrows at him, but simply turns the box round and round in her hands as he checks his cell. "It is a text from Jemma," he tells her, and reads it aloud. "Amara fast asleep in the corner of my bunk. I had to read her three chapters of her book at her request." He smiles fondly, and types a quick reply, thanking Jemma again, then turns his attention back to Daisy. He nods at the box. 

"I was going to do this properly," he tells her. "In a bit, not uh – not when you've just fucked me into jelly."

"I'm sorry," she says, sounding genuinely contrite. 

"No, no, it's okay," he says quickly. He slips his arms around her and kisses her for some time, then pulls back and leans his forehead against hers briefly, before opening the box and showing her the contents. "Daisy Johnson, will you marry me?"

She gasps, and he can see he's taken her completely by surprise. "You want to marry me?" she whispers.

"Yes please. If you'll have me."

"Oh my god, Phil!" She grabs the back of his neck, tugging him closer so she can kiss him hard and fast. "Put it on," she orders, and he can't help shivering, as he always does whenever she talks to him in that particular tone.

He lifts the ring free of the foam inside the box, then clasps her left hand carefully in his before sliding the ring down her finger.

"Now ask me again," she says.

"Daisy Johnson, will you marry me?"

"Yes." She promptly bursts into tears, which he finds slightly alarming, then she buries her face in his neck. He wraps his arms back around her, rubbing his hand over her shoulder.

"You okay?" he asks, feeling a bit anxious about her reaction.

"God, Phil, I'm such a loser," she says, and straightens up again.

"You're not," he tells her.

"Well only a loser'd burst into tears when asked to marry the person they love." 

"At least you said yes first," he says, and smirks when she rolls her eyes a bit, then chuckles.

"Dork."

"Yep."

"See, this is why I love you."

"Because I'm a dork?" He's not sure he follows her logic.

"Because you admit you're a dork," she says. "You own it gladly. And I'm a dork, too."

He chuckles. "We're just two dorks in love."

"Yeah." She looks down at the ring on her hand, then rubs her eyes with her right hand. "I love you so much," she says, then kisses him again. "Thank you for asking me to marry you."

He smiles. "Thank you for saying yes. I'll admit, I did wonder if you would."

"Oh Phil."

"Well, I know what you think about those kind of middle-class institutions. I listened to your podcasts, remember."

"Yeah." She sighs, then says, "This middle-class institution I can live with though, since it's you."

He laughs. "Thank you for making me the exception." He kisses her, soft and sweet. "Let's grab that shower and go to bed."

"Yeah."

AC-S-AC-S-AC

They snuggle up together in bed, Coulson's back against Daisy's chest, and her arms wrapped around his torso, with his arms resting over hers.

"Meant to tell you earlier that Andrew gave Amara a really positive development report today when we spoke."

"That's good news," Coulson says. He knows Andrew's been very concerned that Amara's behaviour has been that of a much younger child, as a result of the neglect she's suffered all her life.

"Yeah. He's certain it won't take her long to catch up to where she ought to be now she's in a stable environment."

"Good." He listens to her breathing for a few minutes, then asks, "What's troubling you?"

"I think we should try to find a tutor for her," she says. "I know she's not going to be with us for very long, but I don't think it's fair to her to keep trying to do this ourselves. When she finally gets a permanent foster family, I don't want her to start school at an even bigger disadvantage than being Inhuman is going to be."

"We can investigate that," he says. "Maybe Andrew will be able to recommend someone?"

"I'll ask him tomorrow."

She's silent for so long that he's starting to fall asleep when she asks, rather tentatively, he thinks, "Could we foster Amara permanently? I mean, actually adopt her."

"Us?" he asks, surprised by the unexpected question.

"You think it's a bad idea," she says.

"I don't," he says quickly, wanting to reassure her. "I hadn't even given it any thought. Not because I don't like Amara – she's a great kid, and I've been surprised by how much I've enjoyed having her around – but is it a good idea for us to adopt her permanently, given what dangerous lives we lead?"

"Yeah, no, you're right," she says hurriedly. "It was a ridiculous idea."

"Daisy." Coulson rolls over so he's facing her, not that he can see her face in the dark bedroom, but he feels that it's better that she's not talking to his back for this conversation. "It's not a ridiculous idea, and I'm not dismissing it out of hand. I'm just concerned. Do we want to risk putting her through the trauma of losing one or, god forbid, both of us if we adopt her? And yes, I know anything can happen to anyone – she could go to a regular family, and then an accident, or a disease, or even murder could deprive her of one or both of her parents. But the odds of that happening are statistically smaller than the odds of one or both of us dying on a mission. If we adopted Amara, we'd have to stop going on joint field missions, at the very least."

"Or one or both of us should give up field missions altogether," she says.

"Well, that would be me," he says immediately. "Your skills, training, and powers are far too valuable to waste them on desk work. Besides, I'm probably pushing my luck by continuing to do field missions – soon my reactions will start to slow down, and that's risky."

"But you love going on field missions," she says, "all the time I've known you, you've preferred to be out, meeting people, to sitting behind a desk."

"Yes I have," he agrees easily. "But I could give that up. It would make more practical sense than you staying out of the field."

She rolls away from him for a moment, just long enough to snap on the light on the nightstand at her back. "You're serious," she observes. "You'd actually give up field work for the sake of Amara."

"And you," he points out. "If you are serious about wanting to adopt Amara, about giving her a permanent home with us, then yes, I'd give up field work."

"I love you, Phil," she says huskily.

"And I love you," he says promptly. He gives her a quick kiss. "I think we should think about this – not rush into making a decision. Maybe talk to Andrew, get his take on it."

"Okay." She kisses him back, then rolls away to switch out the light again. "You gonna go back to being the little spoon, Mr Johnson?"

"Mr Johnson?" He can't deny he's spluttering a bit at this – not that he objects to taking Daisy's name, instead of her taking his (and he'd sort of assumed that if she did accept his proposal, she'd keep her name rather than taking his).

She chuckles quietly in the dark. "Do you mind?"

"No," he says promptly. "You just surprised me." He shifts on the bed until his back's to her chest again, and sighs softly when she wraps her arms around him again, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. "Night Phil."

"Goodnight Daisy."

As he drifts back towards sleep, Coulson can't help thinking that his Thanksgivings with Daisy are developing a tradition of throwing up surprises. Then again, life with Daisy has always held surprises, and he doubts that'll ever change. His last thought before he falls asleep is to wonder just what the others will say tomorrow when they discover he and Daisy are getting married, and he's smiling as sleep claims him.


End file.
